


Chip a Dale

by Ribbitsplace



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Chippendales, Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Belts, Gloves, M/M, Slow Build, Suit Kink, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-10-18 06:03:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17575238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ribbitsplace/pseuds/Ribbitsplace
Summary: Keith is dragged along to a Chippendales show because Matt got them free tickets since an old friend of him is performing. The show proves more captivating than he has initially thought.





	Chip a Dale

**Author's Note:**

> So this started with a thread on twitter, and since I had already written about 2,7k there I thought might as well turn it into something proper XD Hope you like it!  
> Thanks so much to [Cryptidkickflip](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cryptidkickflip/works) for being my wonderful Beta <3
> 
> Also if you want some mood music, [play this ;3](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLuyIFbjiiSyF69-NOLG9RQZ1vGl3bD_En)

IAaah  

‘Keep your hands off my hoodie!’

 

‘So you can bail on us too? I don’t think so, mullet!’

 

‘Come on, buddy, he’s not gonna run. We’re all in the same boat here, none of us really need to see naked men stripping to _Single Ladies_. We’re doing this for Matt.’

 

‘I am right here, thank you very much. And by the way, if I had known you’d be that difficult I’d have never gotten you those tickets, you ungrateful lot.’

 

‘At least Keith’s getting something out of it. You know, swinging both ways, just like the shlongs we’re about to see…’

 

‘LANCE!’

 

The four figures were making their way along a crowded street, attracting annoyed stares from the people around them. Keith rolled his eyes and yanked the sleeve of his hoodie free from Lance’s deathgrip. They were on their way to a show he had never thought he’d get to see.

 

 _The Naughty List_  was blinking on a huge glass front above them in purple neon. The venue was huge and fancy, which calmed some of his fears that they’d end up in a raunchy bar in a basement somewhere. He had heard of the group once or twice before, but had always thought they were something out of a rom-com. _Chippendales_ was what they called themselves, and apparently they were actually worth quite a sum.

 

Keith had looked up the actual ticket price the evening before, a surprised whistle escaping him when he saw the amount. Even if he wasn’t looking forward to it particularly, at least he should get a good show. Besides, none of them had to pay a cent for it. Matt had barged into the community kitchen one day, announcing that an old friend of his was coming to town with his dance crew, and that he got four free tickets.

 

Keith had initially bailed, leaving Lance, Hunk and Pidge to their fate, but since Pidge had announced the day before that she’d be out of town _spontaneously_ he had agreed to take her spot. Now that they were standing in line with a hoard of housewives and excited tweens, he noticed that they were among the very few men in the crowd. Well, what else had he expected honestly.

 

Giant posters on the walls displayed oiled muscle and taut stomachs alongside cheesy puns. While he could appreciate the beefy bodies, they were too much for his taste. No matter the gender, he usually preferred androgynous, slim types. Also the shaved hair and tattoos on most of the guys were representative of a rather macho-esque scene he tended to avoid.

 

‘Here we are!’ Matt gestured happily to their seats in the very front. The stage was maybe three feet away, and about as high. Keith immediately chose the seat furthest to the right. He had thought they would be standing, and he was relieved that he wouldn’t have to fight 30-somethings for a spot to lean on a wall. The lights blinked and a suave voice told the patrons to get to their seats and refrain from filming or taking pictures in a manner that might disturb others.

 

‘How considerate…’ Lance sneered beside him.

 

The show wasn‘t even that bad. All of the men on stage were excellent dancers and performers, ridiculously ripped and smooth as a James Dean pick up line. Even though he preferred slimmer men, after seeing them live and in action he wouldn’t mind doing his dirty laundry on some of those abs.

The acts were ranging from sexy to funny to shamelessly raunchy. Their group couldn’t contain their laughter as Matt was pulled on stage alongside a 50 year old woman and challenged to compete in a contest who would display the most realistic performance of riding a dancer cowgirl style. Matt lost in the end due to his refusal of doing the accompanying noises, but the crowd loved it. As did Lance’s camera.

 

During the first intermission they were going through the footage, shaken by violent laughter and crying tears of delight. Matt was sulking; he had actually thought his performance quite brilliant considering his lack of experience.

 

The first show of the second act was more to Keith’s taste. They brought four men on stage that were dressed up as Rockers in tight jeans and leather boots, playing air guitars and other instruments on and under four delighted women on chairs.

 

He could see Lance doing that stupid smirk of his from the corner of his eye, earning him a smack on the head. Still, surprisingly they were enjoying themselves. The show was cheesy and cliché as fuck, but he could appreciate the display, hard and shiny muscle ripple under the strain of floor grinding and body rolls. So many body rolls. 

 

Keith wasn’t a hormone-plagued teenager anymore, so although the absurdly hot people in front of them were doing their best to get their audience thirsting for more juice, his body didn’t react besides snorts and huffs about the various humorously shameless displays on the stage.

 

That was until he heard the first second of the next song. _Sweet Dreams_ by Marilyn Manson was starting, and Keith could feel his interest being poked by the seductive melody. It had always been an incredibly erotic song for him, taking him back to his sixteen year old self exchanging eager kisses in the back of a car. A tall and broad figure in a suit-and-tie combo was walking on stage with lazy steps, dragging a black chair behind them.  

 

The man seemed to savor every inch of the way, taking the audience in without hurry. He was breathtaking. Even though he was fully clothed from his dress shoes to the collar of his white shirt, he was still more attractive than all the other dancers combined. His hair was silver but the young face betrayed his true age. He couldn’t be more than thirty, probably younger. A huge scar was running over the bridge of his nose, intensifying the impact he made on the crowd.

  He called himself _Atlas_. Keith imprinted the name into his brain. He knew that they had to choose impressive performers for their group, but Jesus Fucking Christ, he had never seen a person like that his entire life. He blamed Manson for corrupting his brain with nostalgic memories.

 

Before he was able to look away, Atlas’ eyes had found his. Mercury was staring down his soul, sending a shiver down his spine. They lingered too long for it not to be intentional, and his mouth turned dry as the dancer took a few steps back and opened his suit jacket with a flick of his thumb.

 

_Everybody’s looking for something._

 

Manson was right. Keith wasn’t able to take his eyes off the man in front of him. A drop of sweat made its way down his temple even though his skin felt cool and prickly. Silver hair. Broad shoulders. The scar. Everything about him was enticing.

 

Atlas was turning around swiftly to _Some of them want to use you_ , shrugging off the jacket painstakingly slowly and hanging it on the back rest of the chair where it melted into the black of the velvet cushion. The black leather gloves stood out against the starched cuffs of his dress shirt, the stretch around his shoulders and biceps speaking of a tempting promise of what laid beneath. Atlas was turning around again, running his hands from the side of his hips to the front along his leather belt, taking a few steps as he started unbuckling. Keith’s heart jumped up into his throat as the man on stage caught his gaze again, unlooping the belt from the clinking metal without breaking eye-contact. Kneeling down at the edge of the stage, he held a hand out to him, offering him the buckle. Keith swallowed.

 

 _Act cool,_ he thought, immediately feeling the urge to slap himself. Hesitantly he stood up and hooked a finger through the metal clasp. It dragged against his hold as Atlas stood up again, causing the belt to slide through the loops of his pants and drop and dangle from Keith’s outstretched hand.  Oh boy.

 

He looked up again and found an outstretched hand. Hopeful he lifted the belt towards it, but was dismissed with wiggle of an index finger and a smirk. His stomach dropped.

 

There were probably a million other things he’d prefer over being put on display in front of a screaming crowd of hormonal women, but he knew too well he’d hate himself if he passed this chance on to another. With resolve and a little too much force he grabbed the hand extended to him and felt himself being hauled up on the stage as if he weighed nothing. Something very primal tried to fight its way up from the depths of his conscience over the display of raw strength, and he had to will it down forcefully.

 

Atlas was guiding him towards the chair in the middle of the stage, heat radiating from where their hands were still connected. His own looked absurdly small, Keith noticed, almost able to block out the screeches of delight coming from the audience.

 

The man guiding him was walking backwards, not leaving him out of his sight as he took the belt out of Keith’s other hand. The pad of a thumb ghosts over his wrist, leaving the spot tingling. If his heart beat any faster he might have collapsed. Gently he was pushed backwards until he was sitting down. Atlas winked at him playfully and turned around, giving Keith a close up view of the toned butt cheeks fighting against the fabric of his suit pants.

 

Keith thanked his past-self for pulling the thick zip-up-hoodie out of the laundryheap, so his awakening shame wasn’t on display. Atlas did something that elicited excited squeals from the spectators, followed by a loud snap that made him flinch.

 

The belt.

 

What had he gotten himself into. In the first row Keith could see Lance with his phone camera pointed at him, face contorted in wicked glee. He’d have to think of something very special to get back at him. Focusing back on the dancer in front of him he was fascinated by the fluid shuffles and grinds as he was dragging the belt along various parts of his body, filling Keith with a mixture of dread and excitement.

 

_Some of them want to be used by you._

 

Yep, that was him alright.

 

He had never been particularly interested in BDSM, 50 Shades of Gray having destroyed the appeal of it pretty much completely, but for this man he would learn to like many a thing.

 

Like a deer he found himself being circled with slow steps as if stalked by a hunter. Atlas disappeared out of his field of vision, and Keith couldn’t suppress a flinch when a deep voice whispered into his ear.

 

‘If anything is too much, flip your foot and I’ll stop.’

 

He could feel his pulse in his ears. The heat of the other’s breath still lingered on his cheek, accompanied by the sharp scent of spearmint and something a bit muskier.

 

Perfect looks. Perfect voice. Perfect smell. Keith had to actively remind himself of the intentions of the performance, of the whole show. It was those people’s job to entertain, to evoke arousal, to make themselves as alluring as possible.

 

It was pure capitalism.

 

Smooth, sexy, Dorito-shaped capitalism.

 

Keith sighed in resignation. He’d play along, go home after and probably think of Atlas under the shower.

 

Having almost forgotten he had been asked a question Keith quickly nodded in agreement. Instantly he felt the cool leather of a glove grazing along his throat, rendering him motionless.The touch sent chills all over his body. He barely kept himself from baring his neck to the beautiful stranger, trying to convince himself that he wasn’t so needy he’d lose all of his dignity in front of a thousand stares and probably half as many cellphones.

 

Atlas took a few steps in front of him again, toying around and snapping the belt a few more times to the audiences delight as the song slowly died down. Another one started, and again the first few notes were familiar to Keith. It was _Go f*ck yourself_ by Two Feet. The man had a good taste in music. He was swaying his hips and took a quick half turn, urging Keith’s legs apart with a soft kick against the side of his shoe. As he was walking back behind him the belt dragged along Keith’s inner thigh, getting dangerously close to his crotch.

 

He wasn’t even sure how far the performers were allowed to go, but as soon as something touched his private parts he’d flip his foot. At least that was what Keith was trying to convince himself of as he was sucking air through his teeth at the contact.

 

He felt thick arms wrap around him from behind, straining the leather strap over his chest.

 

‘No worries.’ The voice purrs into his ear and Keith is sure he’s molten into the chair. The anewed snap of the belt pulled him back, however he only felt a bit of pressure against his muscles. It must have looked painful though, judging from the collective gasp of the audience. Deciding to play along he let his head fall back in faked pain, earning him a throaty chuckle from a face now dangerously close to his. The promise of an oncoming stubble scratched over his cheek as Atlas reached for the hands Keith had been unconsciously fisting into the hem of his hoodie. He gave them up willingly. His blood pressure elevated even more as the belt was slung and fastened over his wrists.

 

 _Play these little games._ a voice from the speakers sang, accompanied by a bass that made his body tremble.

 

He startled when the chair, including himself, was tipped backwards until he could look into Atlas’ face. Not breaking eye contact the man ran a gloved hand over his cheek and down his torso agonizingly slowly.

 

The audience screeched in aroused delight. Keith screeched internally.

Atlas took a few steps to the side, dragging him along and turning him sideways. Back to an upright position he is amazed how well every movement matches the pacing of the song.

 

He tried to turn his head sideways as the other man was doing something behind his back that left the crowd cheering, but it was over too quick and he found himself being circled again.

 

He felt like a baby deer being stalked by a hungry wolf. He doesn’t even mind. Atlas was taking a few steps away from him, bringing some distance between them, just as Keith started to wonder what was coming at him next he started swiftly towards him, dropping to his knees and sliding the last few feet towards him until his face stopped mere inches away from his crotch.

 

He couldn’t even hear the background noise anymore over the roar of the spectators.

 

He only registered Atlas loosening the knot of his tie with a finger, letting it hang casually around his neck.

 

Registered the pull of the belt urging his hands towards Atlas’s collar.

 

Registered a wicked smirk, encouraging him.

 

Heaven help him.

 

With shaking fingers his restrained hands started undoing the buttons of the other’s impeccably white shirt. With every inch of skin that showed through the increasing gap he felt his fingers get clammier and he tries to focus on the task at hand instead of the hard muscle moving under them.

 

As he reached the fifth button Atlas suddenly pushed his hands away, gripped the two open halves of the shirt and forcefully ripped the rest of it apart violently. Buttons popped and flew off into the distance as Keith is left in shock again, mouth hanging and hands still hovering over the chiseled body kneeling before him. He wondered if it felt as hard as it looked.

 

The manhandled buttonless shirt halves were still tucked into the suit pants, framing the line dipping down the dancers stomach in a seductive _V._ He glimpsed a bit of inked skin peek through from the side.

 

As if Atlas had read his mind he reached for the belt dangling from Keith’s wrists, pulling him down to rest his hands on his abs. It felt smooth and hard and hot to the touch, and Keith couldn’t help but look up into the other man’s face. He expected a cocky smirk or a teasing lift of an eyebrow. Instead he found an open face, eyes wide as if in doubt. The expression disappears within a glimpse of a second, but it is enough to make Keith’s brain explode with conspiracy theories.

 

In the farthest corner of his twisted mind a little naïve version of himself whispered.

 

‚What if he likes what he sees?‘

 

Impossible. His attention focused back to his hands that were being pushed dangerously low until they reached the hem of Atlas’ pants. His mouth turned dry again. The dancer arched his back and tilted his head backwards in a shameless display of faked arousal, a fabricated gasp leaving his mouth in perfect timing with a moan in the song. It was excruciatingly delicious.

 

Keith couldn’t help himself but drag his short nails over the skin under them just a little bit. He felt the muscle ripple and flex, rendering him speechless. What was undoing him though was the look Atlas flashed him as he lifted his head back up. It had changed into something dark and dangerous and almost hungry.

 

Keith feels the blood running to his cheeks.. His cheeks and… elsewhere.

 

Elsewhere was also throbbing painfully against his jeans, begging for release. Hadn’t he thought he wasn’t a teenager anymore at the start of the show? He certainly felt like one right now as his stupid brain gave up all control and restraint.

 

With a fluid dance move Atlas hauled himself back up into a standing position, grabbed the edge of Keith’s chair again and dragged him so his back was facing the crowd now. The other man positioned himself right in front of him, legs wide and stance dominant. He started to push up his sleeves purposefully, making a show out of every move. The leather gloves looked obscenely kinky against his bare, burly underarms.

 

Excited cheering from behind him reminded him of the crowd still watching. Atlas was looking back, flicking wrists and rolling shoulders to _Supermassive Black Hole_ by Muse. When had the song changed? He hadn’t noticed.

 

With a swift movement the belt around his wrists is undone and being tossed aside carelessly. Atlas took each of his hands in one of his own, leaning over him and pushing them together behind the back of the chair as if Keith was bound there. The position leaves their chests pressed against each other and Keith turned breathless from the combination of pressure, scent and heat caused by the close proximity of their bodies.

 

‘Keep them there for me.’ Atlas hummed into his ears.

 

Just as Keith thought he couldn’t take much more he felt a gloved hand thread through the hair at the base of his skull, pausing for a second as if to wait for an objection. When none came his head was pulled back, making his body arch into the man hovering above him. A loud gasp escaped him, and he could feel a self-sufficient chuckle rumble against his chest.

 

The way he was bent backwards over the chair he could almost see the audience who was whistling and cheering them on. Atlas in the meantime had leaned back a bit and was dragging his hands along his arms, shoulders and neck, resting his fingers on the zipper of his hoodie. Keith raised his head as he felt the other hesitate to find an eyebrow raised in question, and he nodded.

 

He would take what he could get that evening.

 

_Oh, baby, don’t you know I suffer._

_Oh, baby, can you hear me moan?_

 

His zipper was being dragged down slowly and Atlas made show of tossing the two halves aside for the crowd. Screams ensued. He could hear a voice scream.

 

‘TURN HIM AROUND!’

 

If that was Lance, no god on earth could help him as soon as Keith got to him.

 

Atlas only smirked and wiggled an index finger at the person. He stood upright again and let his knuckles pop meaningfully, then slowly with a few sways of his hip lowered himself down between Keith’s spread legs, out of the audience’s field of vision, and pushed them apart with a quick movement matching the beat of the song. The screams turn deafening. It was clearly meant to be an explicit pose from the crowd’s point of view, and Atlas definitely got the desired effect.

His face was only inches away as he was kneeling between Keith’s legs again, which he was simultaneously grateful for and frustrated by. Until he remembered his excitement, which was on full display through the treacherous fabric of his skinny jeans now that the hoodie was gone. Atlas had definitely noticed, at least that was what the amused look on his face told Keith.

 _Sorry_ , Keith mouthed at him, the embarrassment coloring his face crimson.

All he remembered next is the man before him biting his lower lip, and it almost undid him. He almost didn’t notice Atlas standing up and purposefully wiping his mouth to the last beat of the song. His hoodie was zipped up again and he found himself being pulled up and turned around on shaky legs, bowing to the audience hand in hand with the other, who after two rounds of applause turned towards him and clapped his hands at him with a wicked grin. The spectators roar in delight, and Keith had no idea what to do.

Atlas steps in for his rescue, pulling him in close by the hand an whispering one word into his ear.

_Backstage._

Keith, not able to say anything intelligible, nodded, heart hammering against his ribcage. Suddenly he was up in the air, thrown over a broad shoulder as Atlas made a show of carrying him backwards like a sack of potatoes. Startled he only saw his friends giving him thumbs up and chef’s kisses as he was carried off stage.

Suddenly they were engulfed by darkness. The dim light behind the stage took some adjusting to, and he steadied himself on the other man’s arms as he was slid back down on the ground carefully. His fingers were anchored onto Atlas’ biceps, refusing to move anywhere else, as he felt his waist being encircled by huge hands, tugging their bodies together.

‘Hi.’ he said sheepishly.

‘Hi.’ The dancer answered with a smile.

A muffled commotion behind them pulled Keith from his trance. Behind them a few men were shuffling onto the stage for the next performance, a few clapping him on the shoulders or shoving him playfully while walking by.

‘Fuck off!’ he laughed after them, leaving Keith breathless again. How beautiful could a single person be. How was he supposed to say anything remotely flirty or alluring to this god among men without sounding like a horny teenager. Atlas was turning towards him again.

‘Sorry if it was too much… teasing out there. I couldn’t hold back.’ he said with a shy grin, his hands squeezing Keith’s waist and he knew he was doomed.

He crashed into him like a hurricane, taking the dancer’s lips by surprise. Only for a second though. He was soft and warm, the sensation of the kiss spreading out over his burning skin. The tip of a tongue teased at his upper lip and made him gasp. Before Keith could register it he was lifted up and pressed against a wall, Atlas returning the kiss as good as he got, hands roaming over Keith’s thighs, urging him to link his feet at the small of the dancer’s back.

The sudden grind of the other’s hips against his was surprising, delicious and raw, and he slung his hands around a strong neck as he was trying to suppress a moan. As if he only just noticed that they were still very close to the stage, Atlas parted their lips, leaving both of them breathing heavily. He pressed their foreheads together and, still lifting Keith by his thighs with his bare hands, took a few steps backwards into a secluded space of the backstage area.

‘Atlas, huh?’ Keith whispered teasingly, fingers running through the short hair at the base of the other’s skull. He chuckled and nipped at Keith’s lower lip playfully.

‘You can call me Shiro.’

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading until here. If you liked it, a comment makes my little heart full of happy dokis <3
> 
> Also come over and fangirl with me over Voltron!!!
> 
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/ribbitsplace) (SFW and NSFW posts plus sometimes rants)  
> [Insta](https://instagram.com/ribbitsplace) (SFW art)  
> [Tumblr](https://ribbitsplace.tumblr.com) (SFW art - to be fair, this one is slowly dying :D)


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